


The Giving Hand

by sayasamax3



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Begging, Breathplay, Dominance, Face Slapping, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Spanking, d/s dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayasamax3/pseuds/sayasamax3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt: Alibaba/Any; masochist; Alibaba has masochistic tendencies. His partner finds out. — Bonus for his partner being Kouha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Giving Hand

It  _would_  be Kouha who found him out.

Mind, Alibaba doesn’t know much about Kouha, they don’t even meet properly until after the battle for Magnostadt.  But he’d heard some things from Aladdin, mostly good things, but also a few  _very interesting_ things.  Things that had all been damnably (blessedly) confirmed earlier that evening when Kouha and his attendants had sat with them around the campfire.   Things which made Alibaba’s blood pump hot with just a single stray thought.      

So it’s not a surprise that after everyone else has settled in to sleep for the night, it is Kouha who walks in on him.  Kouha, who walks into his tent with intense, scrutinizing eyes and doesn’t recoil or sneer at finding Alibaba, back arched as he strokes himself with one hand while pressing down on bandaged battle wounds with the other.  

“If you’re trying t’ hide it,” Kouha murmurs, his voice low and a little teasing as he descends on Alibaba, who tries and fails to scramble away, “You’re doing a piss-poor job of it.” 

“Hi-hide what?” Alibaba stammers, his halfhearted attempts to put distance between them already at an end.  Dominance rolls off of Kouha in waves, lays in the sinful curve of his back and the languid motion of his hand as it rises to stroke Alibaba’s face.  He doesn’t need to rush and he knows it, so he savors the smooth skin of his prize with half-mast eyes and a sly grin. 

“You want pain,” Kouha declares.  “You want someone to pull this rope of yours just a little too tight then smack you for choking.”

Alibaba’s heart stops cold in his chest, before taking on a new frantic pace.  Kouha  _knows_ , probably knew from the minute they locked eyes, could read it in his face just as surely as Alibaba had known that the other prince would be exactly what he needed.

“Well?  Am I wrong?” Kouha asks, his hand just a bit more insistent against Alibaba’s cheek. 

And Alibaba knows it’s useless to lie.  “You’re right.”

Kouha’s grin widens as his eyes narrow with glee, the expression of a man who likes giving pain, who likes knowing that the pain he gives is as well-received as any gift of fine clothes or precious gems.

“Do you want me to give you that?”

Alibaba swallows loudly before answering, “Yes.”

“Yes  _master,_ ” Kouha corrects, then pulls his hand back and slaps Alibaba  _hard_ across the cheek he’d been stroking so tenderly just a moment before.  The strike leaves Alibaba’s mind reeling, makes him gasp for air as though it’s his first desperate breath, his whole body set alight by the sharp sting.  

Kouha’s grin turns into something closer to a satisfied smirk as he buries a hand in Alibaba’s hair, closing his fist around fine golden strands before forcefully pulling his head up so that their faces are mere inches apart.  The pull on his scalp burns so good, punctuated by the pinpricks of pain where a few hairs get pulled out, and Alibaba thinks he lets out a little whimper as his eyes flutter shut. 

“I like your reactions,” Kouha says, his voice brimming with approval.  “But I’m getting ahead of myself.  I bet you don’t get treated right often enough, huh?  Not if you’ve gotta pick at your own wounds like that.”

Ashamed, Alibaba nods.  It’s not like he wouldn’t prefer to have a partner, but he’s terrified to ask for what he needs and isn’t really sure he’d want to get off  _without_  the pain he craves.  He fears others’ reactions, their sneers and disgust.  He fears they might go too far, take advantage of his needs and do something truly sick.  For a moment, he wonders why he doesn’t fear Kouha, but the thought passes as quickly as it comes, the answer in the memory of the prince’s attendants and their glowing, fawning faces. 

“Don’t worry,” Kouha whispers into his ear, tightening his grip on Alibaba’s hair ever so slightly. “I’ll work you over so well you’ll be blissed out for  _weeks._   But you’ve gotta be a good pain slut and follow orders for a bit, okay?”

The words send a shiver down Alibaba’s spine, and it takes a supreme effort not to come all over himself right then and there.  Somehow, he doesn’t think that would be following orders.

Alibaba bites down a whine when Kouha releases his hair and leans away from him, making himself as comfortable as he can on the hard ground.  “Strip,” Kouha orders, “But leave the rope on.”

Red works its way up Alibaba’s face and neck as he hurries to comply, exhilarated and nervous to be watched so closely, to feel Kouha’s gaze slide over every scar, every muscle, every bit of softness and find it  _worthy._

“C’mere,” Kouha says, beckoning to him with one insolently crooked finger.  Alibaba does as he’s bid, walking and then stumbling as Kouha takes hold of his neck rope to pull him down.  He tries to fall into the Kou prince’s lap with  _some_  grace, but he’s pretty sure he just ends up a useless sprawl of limbs.  If Kouha minds he doesn’t show it, he just gives Alibaba an indulgent smile and sits him down properly atop his half-hard cock. 

“Now, you look like you’d enjoy getting spanked,” Kouha states, outlandishly matter-of-fact for a man who is grinding against Alibaba’s bare ass, his pace relaxed and unhurried.  “If you’d like something else, I’m sure I can improvise.”

“That sounds good,” Alibaba responds, his voice already coming out a little breathless.

“What sounds good?  You gotta be specific,” Kouha replies, even though his devious smile says he knows full-well what Alibaba wants, and just wants to hear him say it.

 “Uh, th-the spanking,” Alibaba mutters, the urge to clam up fighting with the need to just beg shamelessly for it.

“Good,” Kouha says, and the single word makes the touch of his hands on Alibaba’s hips feel like a reward. 

“And this,” Kouha continues, tugging on the tail of Alibaba’s rope.  “What should I do with it?”

The furious blush that overtakes Alibaba’s face makes his cheek throb in the place he’d been hit.  He swallows thickly before replying, his voice barely above a whisper, “Pull it.”

“And here?” Kouha’s hands slide over his ass, giving it a light squeeze before probing further, deeper, until Alibaba is left shivering on the finger that barely, just  _barely_ , pushes inside of him.  “Should I use you here?”

Alibaba nods frantically, wanting very much to grab Kouha’s shoulders just to have something to keep him steady, but not wanting to take more than he was allowed.  Damn, but it’s been so  _long_ since he’s had the privacy to even touch himself in that way, and longer still since the last time he’d found someone who could make him hurt in all the ways he liked best _._

“Wow, it really  _has_ been a while, huh?” Kouha asks as his finger pushes in just a little farther.  “Though how anyone keeps their hands off you when you wear your perversion around your neck, I’ll never understand.”

The motion feels more sudden than it really is, when Kouha’s finger pulls out, and the burn of it forces a short gasp out of him.  “You’ve been very good, being so honest,” Kouha tells him, running his palm over Alibaba’s ass and giving it a light smack for good measure.  “But now I need you to ask nicely okay?  Ask me to mess you up, tell me everything you want.  Good sluts get rewarded, but only if they use their manners.”

Just the idea that he’ll have to say it all again, that he’ll have to  _beg_ for it gets Alibaba hot and bothered, makes him squirm down against Kouha’s cock, still concealed under his soft silk shorts.  Kouha raises an eyebrow at this, but allows the motion.  

“P-please,” Alibaba begins, taking a deep breath and screwing up his courage so that he can get what he so desperately needs.  It’s really hard to concentrate though when Kouha’s hands are still on him, occasionally pinching his ass and thighs before running a placating palm over the sore spots.  “Please hit me.  Please make it, make it hard to breathe however you want.  Use me.   _Please_.”

“Hmm,” Kouha hums, as though it’s a request he genuinely has to consider fulfilling.

For a moment, Alibaba worries it might be. 

“Well, you forgot one part,” Kouha says at last, his hand once again gently touching down on his cheek, still tender from that first strike.  “But you’re new, so I’ll forgive you if you remember.”

It’s that touch, more than anything, that tells Alibaba what it is he’s forgotten and make the words tumble out of his mouth in an eager rush, “Please Master Kouha.  Please make a mess of me.”

The grin that stretches across Kouha’s face at that is positively feral, and Alibaba hardly has time to think before he’s no longer on the Kou prince’s lap, but on his hands and knees.  Kouha is behind him, one hand sliding around his neck, the other groping his ass, going so far as to dig his finger nails in just the slightest bit, so Alibaba can feel little crescent-moon indentations forming on his skin.  But that hand soon leaves him, coming instead to rest beside Alibaba’s own as Kouha drapes himself across Alibaba’s back. 

“Open up,” Kouha whispers against the shell of his ear, as he brings his free hand up to Alibaba’s face, his fingers skimming over one cheek before resting on the seam of his lips.  Carefully, Alibaba’s lips open just a bit, enough to let his tongue through so it can run over Kouha’s fingertips, the teasing gesture a pleasant surprise to the Kou prince, only trumped by the way Alibaba takes his fingers in with such enthusiasm, lavishing each with attention and sucking hard as though they weren’t fingers, but Kouha’s cock.  The sensation brings him to full hardness, and shamelessly he ruts against Alibaba’s ass, reveling in how that makes Alibaba squirm and moan beneath him.

By the time Kouha pulls his fingers out, Alibaba is panting, his eyes pleading and desperate for some kind of relief.  This isn’t going to last long, Kouha suspects, not when it’s clearly been a very long while since someone’s touched the body below his in the ways it craved.  So he doesn’t take too much time preparing Alibaba, sticking in two spit-slick fingers and adding a third not long after.  Besides, Alibaba clearly appreciates the burn of it, if the way he thrashes and mewls is any indication.

Alibaba pushes himself back, fucking himself on Kouha’s fingers and for a minute Kouha’s hand stills, making the other prince work for his satisfaction.  His free hand is palming his own cock, using spit and precome to make it slick.  But that game comes to an end when Alibaba finally looks over his shoulder, his tearful eyes pleading for relief, and Kouha has to take a stabilizing breath before he slowly pushes in, relishing the broken keen it forces out of Alibaba. 

Kouha sinks in just a little deeper than he thought possible when he leans forward, his chest pressing against the strong lines of Alibaba’s back, so that he can whisper, “Whenever you’re ready for the next one, just say ‘please’.”  The words are followed by a light nibble on the curve of his ear, before Kouha pulls back.  He feels a light tugging on his neck rope and realizes that at some point Kouha had grabbed the tail end and now held it loosely in his hand. 

Alibaba can’t help but look back at Kouha, desperate to see the other prince’s arousal-tinged cheeks, his eyes shining with lust and his hand pulled back, ready to deliver the first blow.   Alibaba takes a deep breath, gathering his nerves before looking Kouha straight in the eyes and saying, “ _Please._ ”

The first slap is sharp, delivered to the round of his ass, and even though it’s far from the intensity of that first hit to his face, it still makes him squirm down on the other’s cock as he says his next, “Please!”

Kouha’s hand hits a little lower this time, closer to the top of Alibaba’s thigh, already turning pink from the abuse.  Alibaba’s back arches, the motion pulling the rope just a bit tighter on his neck.  The word “Please” escapes him again, already breathless in anticipation for  _real_ breathlessness to overtake him.  Another hard smack hits his ass, this time with a  _crack_ so loud Alibaba’s sure half the camp heard it, as well as the whine that followed.

“You look gorgeous like this you know,” Kouha says, running his hands gently over the quickly reddening flesh of Alibaba’s backside.  The motion is soothing and dulls the ache a bit, though it does nothing  but make the ache between his legs that much worse.  Kouha’s thrusts are shallow, his hips moving in small circles that tease but don’t satisfy, and it’s driving Alibaba up a wall with the desperate need to just be  _taken._

But if Kouha’s being a bit too gentle with his fucking, then he’s certainly makes up for it with the sharp tug on Alibaba’s neck rope, forcing the blond to arch hard with the motion.  The position, combined with the pressure of the rope around his neck, makes it more difficult than ever to breathe, and his words come out in harsh pants, “Please, please, please…”

Kouha keeps up with Alibaba’s fervent chanting, striking him from different angles and at different intensities until Alibaba’s sure he won’t be able to sit at all the next day.  Tears spring to his eyes and his arms give out on him, leaving him with his ass in the air, hardly able to get enough breath to keep up his mantra.  All the while Kouha keeps thrusting into him, good but never quite  _enough_.

“Sssh,” Kouha says at last, his hand once more soothing over inflamed flesh.    “You wanted more than just that, didn’t you?  You’ll get everything I’ve promised you, trust me.”

Then that gentle hand takes bruising hold of Alibaba’s hip and holds him still as Kouha shoves into him hard, setting a brutal pace that makes Alibaba writhe, breathless and eager for the ache that runs through him every time his ass meets Kouha’s hips with that obscene skin-on-skin  _slap._  The rope around his neck is so tight he can barely think, other than to hope it leaves a bruise that lasts long enough to satisfy him even when Kouha’s gone and he has to make due for himself. 

There’s nothing Kouha likes more than watching someone come alive under his touch, relishing every pinprick of pain and thriving because of it.  Alibaba just looks particularly perfect when he does it, his ass colored so prettily from the abuse it’s taken, split over Kouha’s dick, his back forming the most lovely arch as pathetic little whimpers spill out of his mouth and tears slide down his cheeks.  Grinning, Kouha wraps the rope around his knuckles once so that it stays taut when he buries his hand in Alibaba’s hair and forces the other boy’s face into the ground, holding Alibaba in place as he lets his thrusts become downright savage, brutal as he pleases, knowing Alibaba will take anything he doles out with gratitude. 

Everything, from Kouha’s harsh thrusts to the pain of his still-smarting cheek being pressed into the dirt, overwhelm Alibaba, forcing him over the edge with a silent scream as intense tremors run through him.  His body feels so thoroughly wrung-out, useless to do anything but shiver and it’s only Kouha’s hand on his hip that keeps him from collapsing completely. 

For a moment Kouha just revels in the tight squeeze of Alibaba on his cock, the body below him pleasantly twitchy, oversensitive and enjoying even that discomfort.  Then, because Kouha is  _good_  and had known from the beginning that there was only one real way to end this, he pulls out and comes over Alibaba’s ass, relishing the sight of his seed dripping down the other boy’s trembling thighs and the curve of his back. 

“How’re you doin’?” Kouha asks once he comes down from his high, taking the rope off of Alibaba’s neck and rearranging his worn-out body so that it lays in a more comfortable position.   He even goes so far as to rest the blonde’s head on his lap so he can pet his fellow prince’s mussed hair. 

“Good.  Real good,” Alibaba replies after a moment, his eyes sliding shut as he enjoys a new kind of bliss, different but inexplicably entwined with what he’d just experienced.  Slowly but surely the tremors running through him stop, leaving nothing but a satisfied, bone-deep ache in their place.  Kouha was right, Alibaba  _is_ going to feel this for weeks. 

Kouha’s not one to leave anything unfinished, nor is he particularly inclined to be ashamed of his bedmates.  So he spends the rest of the night in Alibaba’s tent, soothing the aches from the other boy’s figure until finally Alibaba drifts off into a deep, blissful sleep.  It is only then that he feels comfortable laying down himself, curling up beside Alibaba and sharing his heat as he too, succumbs to unconsciousness.


End file.
